crush
by Fiery Keys
Summary: Written for the CS Secret Santa event on Tumblr. Emma Swan has done a lot of crazy things in her life. But befriending and (eventually) falling in love with her son's favorite author? Yeah, this might be the craziest one yet.


If Killian is being honest, the whole reason he meets Emma Swan is all because of those damn Pop Tarts.

He doesn't normally get unholy cravings for junk food at strange hours, but there's a first for everything, Killian supposes as he enters the grocery store at 9 pm, pulling his beanie down over his eyes self consciously, hoping desperately that he doesn't get noticed. The last thing he needs is for a line of fans asking for his autograph. And Killian, soft hearted fool that he is, can never bring himself to deny them.

He's studiously browsing the selection of Pop Tarts like any normal, functioning adult, when someone steps beside him, saying, "I recommend the chocolate ones. They're pretty damn awesome."

Killian freezes in place for a moment before turning to look at the owner of the voice. It's a young woman who looks to be about his age. She's bloody gorgeous, with her long golden curls and sparkling green eyes. Killian does his best not to stare, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. She doesn't seem to recognize who he is, thankfully.

"The chocolate?" he manages to get out, hoping his blush isn't too obvious. She nods.

"They're perfect for anyone with a sweet tooth."

Killian picks up the box and offers her a smile. "Well, thank you for your input, Miss…?"

She smirks and he does his best to look innocent, knowing his attempt to find out her marital status wasn't exactly subtle. She doesn't seem offended though, so there's that.

"Swan. Emma Swan."

"It's a pleasure to meet you then, Swan."

Emma grins at his use of her last name and tips her head in a nod, picking up her own box of Pop Tarts and walking away. Killian stares after her for a few moments, a dazed look on his face. He isn't one to develop schoolboy crushes, especially not at his age but _damn_.

Emma Swan is truly the loveliest woman he's met in a while and although he's only talked to her for about thirty seconds, Killian can't help but hope he'll see her again.

When he heads back home, Pop Tarts in tow and sits at his laptop, he can feel the writer's block that had plagued him for the last couple of days slip away. Killian types away for the next couple of hours before he finally gets up, stretching his limbs, to gorge on the sugary snack that he definitely has no business eating.

(It's delicious.)

* * *

"Henry, I got your snacks," Emma calls out as she shuts the apartment door behind her. Her twelve year old son is curled up on the couch with a book, other novels of the same series scattered around him. Emma grins when he doesn't even lift his head, clearly engrossed in what he's reading.

She clears her throat. " _Kid_."

Henry looks up, then. "Oh, hey, mom," he puts his book down and jumps off the couch to relieve her of the snacks. Emma glances around at the cluttered living room and sighs.

"Let's clear this mess up and then eat, kid."

Henry grumbles, but does as she says gathering up his books in his arms to put away. Emma picks up the one he missed, idly flicking open the cover and her jaw drops.

The photo of the author, Killian Jones, is the cute guy she met in the grocery store.

"Oh my god," Emma mutters. Henry will never let her hear the end of it he gets to know that she ran into his favorite author and didn't even get him an autograph. In Emma's defense, he didn't really _look_ like a bestselling author. Sure, he was ridiculously hot, but in an adorable kind of way, with his rumpled hair sticking out from under his beanie and his bright, absurdly blue eyes. Of course, this explains the deer-in-headlights look on his face when she spoke to him. He was probably afraid of being recognized.

Shaking her head, Emma puts the book down. Really, what were the chances that she ran into a famous author at a grocery store of all places? It sounds absurd and she's sure that Henry would be skeptical if she told him.

Well, there's no use dwelling on it.

It's not like she's ever going to see the guy ever again.

* * *

Between working on his novel and attending fan conventions, Killian barely has any time to think about Emma Swan.

But once everything has settled down and his only real responsibility is finishing the final draft of his book and taking care of himself (he's incredibly bad at the latter, and he's sure his brother would give him hell about it if he were here.), Killian finds himself visiting the store where he met Emma more and more, clinging on to a rather pathetic hope of seeing her. He feels like a bloody teenager with a crush and knows he should've asked for her number when he met her, but here he is.

And a couple of weeks later, Killian actually _does_ run into her.

It's not at the grocery store, but in a bookshop run by a dear friend of Killian's, Belle French. He stops at the counter, chatting with her, when Emma Swan sweeps into the shop past him, her blonde hair swinging over her shoulder.

Killian makes some kind of hasty excuse to Belle and ignoring her knowing smirk, he hurries after Emma.

"Hello, Swan!" Her body stills and when she turns to face him, to Killian's relief, she at least seems to remember him.

"Oh, hey," Emma gives him a kind of hesitant smile, fiddling with her bag. "Didn't expect to run into you here."

"This happens to be one of my favorite haunts, Swan."

Emma laughs. "I guess it would be surprising if it weren't, seeing as you're a writer and all that." At his stunned look, she smiles sheepishly. "I didn't really who you were until I got home and saw my son buried in one of your books."

"Ah, I see," Killian chuckles. "It's rather refreshing to _not_ be recognized, I suppose. You have a son, you said? How old is the lad?"

Emma smiles proudly. "Twelve. His name is Henry. He loves reading, and he loves your books even more. In fact-you've got to give me an autograph for him. He'll be furious if he knows that I met you and I didn't get him an autograph."

"Well, we can't have that, now," Killian pulls a notepad out of his pocket and grins at her incredulous look. "Writer, love."

Along with his autograph, Killian leaves a little message for Henry. After a bit of hesitation, he writes his number on another sheet and hands both pages to Emma. She raises a brow at it.

"You're subtle," Emma says drily. Killian laughs nervously.

"You can't blame a man for trying, love."

"Look-"Emma hesitates and Killian feels his heart sink. "I'm really not-I'm really not up for dating right now. You're really sweet, but-"

"That's alright, love," Killian interrupts. "I suppose I was too forward, anyhow."

"No, no," she reassures him. "You weren't, I'm just-not ready, I guess."

Killian nods. "I understand, Swan," He really does. After he lost his wife, Milah in a car accident, he'd been in a terrible place and it had taken almost five years to even consider dating again. "I would, however, be honored to have the pleasure of your friendship."

Emma's eyes widen and she looks rather suspicious. "Really?"

"Really," Killian confirms. "I may be a bestselling author, but I don't exactly have a lot of friends, and I'd love to have you as one. I solemnly swear that I will not attempt to woo you-unless you wish for it, of course." He waggles his eyebrows at her and she rolls her eyes.

"Keep dreaming, buddy," but she's smiling, and clutches the papers a little tighter. "But, uh, thanks for the autograph. Henry will be over the moon. Speaking of which- "she checks her watch. "I'd better pick up Henry's book for him now if I don't want to be late for work."

"Which book?"

"One of yours, actually. The book which was released lately."

"Ah. Well, I hope he'll enjoy it," Killian says. "I must be off, myself. But I trust I'll hear from you soon?"

Emma laughs and shakes her head. "Sure thing."

Killian heads home and nothing can take the wide, goofy smile off his face for the rest of the day.

He might not have gotten the right to court Emma yet, but he _has_ gotten her friendship and that in itself is a true gift.

* * *

"You met _Killian Jones_?!" Henry nearly screeches.

Emma smiles at his excitement and holds out the autograph wordlessly. Henry takes it almost reverently, his mouth hanging open as he tries to process the news.

"What was he like?" Henry asks breathlessly.

 _Oh, you know. Hot, kind of adorable and he sort of asked me out._ But none of those are appropriate answers. Emma shrugs in an attempt to be casual. "He was…interesting."

Henry is no longer listening, too absorbed in the autograph. Emma grins and leaves him to it, shutting herself in her room before she takes out the sheet of paper with Killian's number on it.

If she's being honest, the idea of dating him is pretty appealing. He's cute, funny and clearly interested in her. Emma knows that by societal standards, she's crazy for saying no. But something about the way she feels drawn to this man and finds herself laughing and smiling in his presence a bit more than usual is dangerous. The last time Emma opened her heart to someone, it backfired in the worst way possible.

She can't take that risk again.

Killian had taken her by surprise, though. Few of the men who have asked her out over the years were interested in nothing more than getting into her pants. But this man-he took her rejection gracefully and even asked for her friendship, to boot.

Emma hesitates for just a few minutes longer before she messages him.

 _Hey._

 _It's Emma, from the bookstore._

It takes a few more minutes, but he responds.

 **Hello, love. Good to hear from you.**

Emma grins widely at the reply, firmly ignoring the flutter in her chest at being called 'love' even over text.

 _Henry was thrilled with the autograph._

Killian replies immediately.

 **Glad to hear it! How does he like the new book?**

 _He just started it, which probably means I won't get a peep out of him till tomorrow morning._

 **Well, that's quite flattering.**

Emma snorts at the message, shaking her head.

 _Someone's got a big ego._

 **Guilty as charged, love.**

They text for a while longer, but Emma has to cut the conversation short soon so she can see about getting Henry's dinner ready. But long after, and through dinner, Killian lingers on her mind.

It's nice to have a friend. Emma doesn't have all that many. If she thinks about it, she can only count David, her partner in the BPD and his wife, a sweet school teacher named Mary Margaret. They're both perfectly lovely and are like the family Emma never had, but she never got along with them as quickly as she is with Killian.

The thought should worry her, but it's only friendship, so it's going to be okay, right?

(At least, Emma hopes so. She has a habit of screwing up all her relationships.)

When she's getting ready for bed, she receives another message from Killian.

 **You mentioned a job, but I still don't know what your chosen profession is, Swan.**

Emma stifles a laugh at his over-the-top way of asking about her work and replies.

 _I'm a detective in the BPD._

He sends her a shocked emoji in reply and Emma can't hold back her laughter this time.

 **That sounds exciting! Got any intense cop stories for me?**

 _That depends, are you going to be entirely unoriginal and use them in your books?_

 **I would never!**

 _Well then, there was this one time…_

* * *

When the phone rings, Killian looks up from his computer in interest, hoping its Emma and sinks a little in disappointment when he realizes it's only his editor.

He's developed a fairly good friendship with Emma over the past week. Their constant texting might be distracting him from his work, but at least he's finished the final draft of his book, right? They talk about every topic imaginable-from perks and cons of their jobs to their plans for the Christmas holidays-which are three _months_ away. (She'll be spending the holidays in Boston itself with Henry. Killian will have his brother, Liam and his wife, Elsa, visiting him.)

It's been a good week.

"Good evening, Tink," Killian greets his editor. She's become a close friend over the years and her services as his editor have been invaluable. "Did you read the draft?"

" _I did,"_ Tink says. _"And I noticed something pretty interesting."_

Killian frowns and opens up the draft on his laptop. He doesn't think there is anything particularly extraordinary in it. "What did you notice?"

" _It has a bit of an emotional tinge to it,"_ Tink observes. _"Your stories tend to focus more on the plot and as such, but there's more emphasis on the relationships, this time. Particularly the romantic ones."_

Killian shifts uncomfortably. He has an inkling of why that happened. "Is that a problem?"

" _Oh no, not at all,"_ Tink assures him. _"It's just…did you meet someone recently?"_

Killian winces. He'd been dreading this. He loves Tink, he really does, but her love for match making can be…trying, at times.

"Maybe," He says evasively and then quickly, before she can question him further, "But how was the draft?"

" _Good,"_ Tink says briskly, all business now. _"It needs plenty of tweaking, of course, but this has great potential, Killian. It could be your best book yet."_

Killian sags in relief. "That's good to hear."

" _Mm. Well, I've gotta go. I'll send you my thoughts on it later."_

"Thanks, Tink."

" _No problem."_ She hangs up and Killian stares at his phone with a grin, feeling excitement bubble up in him. His best book yet…that certainly sounds promising.

He messages Emma immediately.

 **Swan!**

Her reply comes almost immediately. _What?_

 **I have wonderful news. My next book is coming along pretty well.**

 _I'd be concerned if it didn't. You are a professional writer, after all._

 **Hush, Swan, why can't you be as enthused as I am and congratulate me?**

 _And feed your ever growing ego? Perish the thought._

Killian frowns, and calls her.

"Must you be so heartless, Swan?"

" _Always,"_ comes the cheerful reply. _"I'm sure you have thousands of fans building up that pride of yours…someone has to bring you back down to earth."_

"I'm starting to rethink my offer of friendship, love."

Emma laughs and the sound makes his heart jump. _"Too late, Jones. You're already in way too deep."_

"I suppose I am," Killian mutters with a sigh.

If knowing Emma for but a week already has him blushing like a schoolboy at her calls and having her on his mind all the time, then, he's bloody well buggered, isn't he?

It would be so incredibly easy to fall in love with her.

And Killian isn't sure if he wants to stop himself from doing so.

* * *

"Mom, who are you texting?"

Emma freezes guiltily, fingers hovering over her phone. Henry, of course, still has no idea that she's struck up an unlikely friendship with his favorite author. She knew she had to tell him at some point, but she just couldn't figure out how.

It seems he's beat her to it.

"Killian Jones," she mumbles and Henry's eyes go wide.

" _What_?" Before Emma can protest, he snatches the phone out of her hands and stares at the chain of texts in amazement. " _Mom_! I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

Emma shrugs helplessly and holds out her hand for her phone. Henry gives it back before launching into an interrogation.

"When did this start? Why are you guys texting anyway? Did he tell you anything about his new book?"

Emma patiently answers all these questions as well as she can. At the end of her explanation, Henry's eyes are shining with excitement and he's practically bouncing in his seat.

"Mom, you've got to invite him over for dinner."

Emma blinks in surprise. "Henry…" she begins. "He's a busy man, I don't think…"

Henry waves his hand impatiently. "He can't be all that busy if he finds the time to send you funny cat videos, Mom," Emma blushes at that and Henry continues, oblivious to her embarrassment. "Mr. Jones is _my_ favorite author. It's not fair that you're the only one getting to talk to him all the time!"

Realizing that there's no way Henry's going to let up on this and having a feeling that Killian would be all too delighted to come over, Emma relents with a sigh. "Fine, kid. I'll see what I can do."

"Yes!" Henry bounds off his chair and hugs her. "You're the best, Mom!"

Emma smiles and kisses his hair and begins to think that this may not be such a bad idea, after all.

* * *

It's Friday night and normally, Killian would be holed up in his apartment writing or sleeping the evening away, but here he is, in front of Emma Swan's apartment, clutching a bottle of wine as he tries to get up the courage to knock.

When Emma had extended her dinner invitation, Killian had been thrilled and accepted it immediately. He is _still_ thrilled, undoubtedly, but also incredibly nervous.

Finally, Killian knocks. There's a sound of running footsteps and the door is opened by whom Killian assumes to be Henry, a young boy, with brown hair and wide eyes, staring up at him in silence.

Killian clears his throat. "Henry, I presume?" the boy nods wordlessly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, lad. May I come in?"

"Yes," Henry squeaks out. "Uh, come in, Mr. Jones. My mom's just getting dinner ready."

"You can call me Killian," Henry's eyes go even wider at that and Killian resists the urge to chuckle as he follows the boy into the apartment. It's a modest, two bed room flat, warmly lit with bright lights and decorated with photo frames, wall hangings and potted plants.

Emma emerges from the kitchen, pink cheeked and bright eyed, wearing a pretty silk blouse and a pair of jeans, her hair gathered into a loose side braid. Killian's mouth goes dry at the sight of her and he swallows desperately, forcing himself not to stare.

"Killian, hey," Emma says a little breathlessly. "Uh, have you met Henry…?"

"Aye, we were just getting acquainted," Killian manages to find his voice and smiles at her in greeting. "You have a lovely home, Swan."

"Thanks," Emma says. "Dinner's ready. Henry," she glances at her son. "Why don't you go set the table?"

Henry looks a little miffed but obeys regardless and disappears into the kitchen. Emma shuffles around a bit, shoving her hands into her back pockets.

"Thanks for coming," she says quietly. "It means a lot to Henry. You're kind of his idol, you know."

"I'm happy to be here, Swan," Killian tells her honestly. "And I hope-"he adds, a little shyly. "That you're happy to have me, too."

Emma's brow crinkles as she smiles gently and Killian feels his chest constrict. "Of course I am-" she begins, but gets no further as Henry sticks his head around the doorway, frowning petulantly.

"Guys, hurry up! Dinner's getting stone cold and you two are just _talking_."

Killian glances at Emma and they share a laugh.

* * *

Dinner goes better than Emma ever hoped or imagined it would.

After getting over his initial nervousness, Henry engages Killian in conversation and they end up talking a mile a minute, accompanied with expressive hand gestures, laughter and wide smiles. Killian wins Henry over easily and Emma herself doesn't take part in the chatter much but watches them quietly, a fond smile on her face. After dinner, they retire into the living room and Emma brings out cartons of ice cream as Henry puts on a movie.

"I would've baked a cake, but-"

"Mom sucks at baking," Henry interjects, much to her chagrin.

"I'm not _that_ bad," she protests.

"Keep telling yourself that, Mom."

Killian laughs at their banter and Emma is momentarily embarrassed before noting the charmed smile on his face. He catches her eye and winks, causing her to blush and shove the ice cream into his hand none too gently. Killian looks particularly handsome tonight, his hair in a hopeless mess as usual (but _damn_ does it look good on him) and his button up grey Henley does wonders for his physique.

Not that Emma has noticed.

Cause, you know, she hasn't.

When the movie is over, it's past ten and Emma orders Henry to bed. He goes after a lot of grumbling and a promise from Killian to text and visit regularly. After a few more minutes, Killian gets up to leave regretfully and they linger at the doorway to talk as he slips on his jacket.

"Thanks again," Emma tells him. "Henry had a lot of fun tonight," and after a burst of courage-"And so did I. We should do this again sometime."

"Undoubtedly, love," Killian says with a wry smirk. "I fear the lad may never forgive us if we don't."

Emma laughs lightly and unconsciously reaches up to smoothen the collar of his jacket. "Drive home safe-" she murmurs, and then freezes when she looks up at him. His eyes have darkened slightly, his gaze lingering on the curve of her lips.

Slowly, Killian covers her hand which is still gripping his collar with his own. "I will," he says quietly, his eyes never leaving her face. For a minute Emma thinks he might kiss her. Or she might kiss him. And either way, they're standing far too close than is appropriate and Henry could come out any minute now and-

And then Killian steps away (Emma can't tell whether she's disappointed or relieved) and inclines his head slightly. "Thank you for dinner, Swan. Good night."

"…good night," Emma breathes and watches him until he disappears out of sight.

* * *

They fall into a kind of routine after that.

Killian and Emma still chat constantly over text and phone calls, but Killian visits her more often than not and she drops by his place sometimes, too. On some days, the both of them with Henry go out to get ice cream or something like that.

It's fun. Killian can't remember the last time he's spent so much time with anyone who isn't his brother and sister-in-law. Henry is a charming young lad, bright and engaging and Killian enjoys his company immensely. And Emma, well…

Killian feels that he's dangerously close to falling in love with her.

Tink finds out about them, because _of course_ she does and teases Killian about his 'crush' endlessly. Killian protests against this vehemently. He's a grown man. He does not have _crushes_.

Of course, when it comes to Emma Swan, everything about her seems to turn his world and all that he knows upside down.

It's mid-December, and the shops and streets are already being decorated brightly and Killian can hear Christmas music drifting out of the stores he passes by as he walks home. He smiles to himself, remembering that Liam and Elsa will be coming to Boston to spend the holidays with him this year. Maybe Emma and Henry could join them, too…

Killian spots a vendor on the street selling hot chocolates laced with peppermint, adorned with candy canes, spiced with _pumpkin_ of all things and pauses. He knows that Emma loves hot chocolate, and all things that are made with an unholy amount of sugar. He also knows that she's at her precinct right now, most likely bored to death with paperwork and interrogating of criminals.

(Okay, the last one doesn't sound too boring. But still.)

(Anything for an excuse to see her.)

On entering the station, Killian is granted with a visitor's pass upon asking for Detective Swan and is pointed in the direction of her desk. Killian hurries towards it, hot chocolate in hand, and promptly stops in dismay when he sees her leaning into a chair, pressing an ice pack to her forehead.

"Swan! What happened?!"

Emma's head snaps up at the sound of his voice and she fairly gapes at him. " _Killian_? What the hell are you doing here?"

Killian holds up the ridiculously decorated cup of hot chocolate as an explanation and sets it down on her desk, moving to stand beside her chair. "What happened to you, Swan?" he gingerly touches the spot where she'd been pressing the ice pack to previously, brushing his fingers against the swollen skin. He thinks he sees her eyes flutter shut for a moment before she seems to snap back into it and take his hand.

"I'm fine," Emma reassures him. "The perp I was chasing just got a little out of hand is all. Nothing I haven't handled before."

Killian retracts his hand reluctantly, narrowing his eyes. "I hope you gave him hell."

"Broke his nose."

"That's my Swan."

A flush steals across her cheeks at that and Emma quickly turns away, grabbing the hot chocolate. "Did you come all the way here just to give me this?" she takes a sip and hums in satisfaction. "Mm, that tastes awesome."

Killian scratches behind his ear, blushing slightly at the amusement in her voice. "I thought you might like it."

"I do. Very much," Emma stands up then and waves to a blonde man at the end of the bullpen. "David! I'm taking the rest of the day off. Do you think you could finish the rest of the paperwork for me?"

David hurries over and nods. "Sure, no problem, Emma. Get some rest." he glances at Killian and raises his eyebrows. "Who's your friend?"

He sounds rather protective and Emma rolls her eyes like she's used to it. "Killian, David. David, Killian. Now can we-"

"Hold on a sec-" David cuts her off. "Aren't you that writer?" Killian sighs at the question and Emma looks startled.

"You've read his books?"

"Mary Margaret-my wife-does," David says. "Emma, how do you know a famous writer?"

"It's a long story," Emma says hastily. "And we really should be going. Come on, Killian."

They've made it out of the precinct with no further interruptions and on to the sidewalk when Emma finally speaks, exhaling loudly. "Sorry about David. Sometimes I think he forgets that he isn't actually my father."

Killian chuckles at the exasperation in her voice. "He seems nice," he offers.

"Oh, he is. His wife, Mary Margaret, too-they're both the best," Emma says a little wistfully. "They've been pretty great to me, ever since Henry and I moved to Boston."

"It's good that you have people you can count on."

"Yeah, but I'm so used to being alone that it can get overbearing sometimes," Emma winces guilty. "Sorry. I know I probably sound super ungrateful now."

"No, no," Killian assures her. "I completely understand."

They reach Emma's apartment and Killian glances around, raising his eyebrows in surprise at the lack of Christmas decorations. Emma seems oblivious to his surprise, slumping down on the couch, closing her eyes briefly.

"Do you need some ice, Swan?" Killian asks in concern and she gives him a faint smile.

"No, thanks. I'm just exhausted. It's been a long day."

Killian sits down beside her. "Is there anything I can do?"

Emma cracks open an eye and grins at him. "You're sweet," her grin grows wider when he blushes. "But no, I'll be fine."

Killian clears his throat, trying to dispel his flush. "I couldn't help but notice there aren't many decorations put up, Swan. Not a fan of the holiday season?"

Emma sighs. "Henry loves it," she tells him. "He's been bugging me about putting up the tree and hangings for a while now," her eyes brighten. "Hey, maybe we could do it tonight. You could join us."

A little stunned at the invitation, Killian can't stop the wide smile that breaks across his face. "I'd be honored, Swan. But are you sure? I wouldn't want to intrude on a family moment."

Emma waves his concerns away. "It's fine. And besides, Henry would be ecstatic."

"And you, Swan?" Killian asks softly, not unlike the time he'd joined her and Henry for dinner for the first time.

Emma licks her lips nervously and Killian resists the urge to groan, following the movement with his eyes.

"You know the answer to that." She says quietly.

A tense kind of silence hangs over them, the air charged with electricity and anticipation. Killian inches forward slowly, his hand moving to close over hers, eyes silently seeking permission. Emma only tilts her head towards his in response, and her eyes flutter shut when he kisses her.

Killian sighs into Emma's mouth softly, and shifts closer, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. She tilts her head to deepen the kiss, cupping the back of his head, her fingers tangled in the black strands of hair. Killian groans when she tugs slightly and abruptly, the kiss turns more passionate, tongues tangling and teeth grazing. Emma shudders slightly when Killian trails his fingers down her neck, breaking the kiss to draw in a huge gulp of air.

"That was, uh-" Killian stammers, pupils dilated, his breath fanning over her lips.

"- _awesome_ ," Emma finishes for him. A smirk tugs at her lips at the sight of his mind blown state.

"That's definitely one way to put it," Killian agrees with a husky laugh. He pulls her closer and buries his face in the crook of her neck, relishing the way she trembles against him. "Whatever happened to just being friends, love?" he mumbles against her skin.

Emma lets out a shaky exhale and tugs him up so she can look him in the eye. "I knew that there was something between us," she admits softly. "Right from the start, I knew. I knew that you could definitely-" she stutters over her words. "-definitely make me begin to care for you."

Killian's brow furrows in confusion. "Then why-"

"I was afraid," Emma cuts him off. "I was afraid of what I felt and I thought if I ignored it, it would go away," she chuckles wryly. "Obviously, that failed." She looks up at him, a silent plea in her face. "Forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive, love," Killian kisses her again, soft and chaste before he pulls away, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "But what are we going to tell the lad?"

Emma huffs out a laugh. "Knowing Henry, he'd probably try and use it as incentive to get spoilers about your next book out of you."

"Aye, like mother, like son."

"Hey! I've never tried to get any spoilers out of you! I don't even _read_ your books."

Killian shakes his head mournfully. "A fact that continues to wound me to this day, my love."

She blushes at the endearment and tries to cover it up with a laugh. "I promise to read at least one book of yours, okay?"

Killian boops her nose gently, enjoying her delighted smile. "I'll hold you to that."

(Henry comes home after school to find them snuggled on the couch, watching a cheesy Christmas movie. He fist pumps the air triumphantly and declares he knew all along that it was only a matter of time.)

(They decorate the house amid laughter and Christmas music drifting from Emma's laptop. Killian hangs up the mistletoe over the doorway and Emma kisses him underneath it. Both of them laugh when Henry grumbles and rethinks his joy over them getting together.)

(They spend Christmas morning together, along with Liam and Elsa who are very excited to meet Emma and Henry.)

(All in all, it's the best Christmas they've ever had yet.)


End file.
